


A Taste of Honey

by Pythia (Mythichistorian)



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Young Hercules
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 22:09:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 14,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5887198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythichistorian/pseuds/Pythia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once, it was all Alcmene's fault ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:This story has been written for love rather than profit and is not intended to violate any copyrights held  
> by Universal, Pacific Rennaisance, or any other holders of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys trademarks or copyrights.
> 
> This story is set in that interesting and undocumented gap between the end of 'Young Hercules' and the start of the 'Legendary Journeys.' Boys will be boys - and heroes will be heroes.

It might be said that - for once - it was all Alcmene’s fault. Of course, she hadn’t intended her son to take her request seriously, nor had she given much thought to the consequences of making it - because if she had, she probably wouldn’t have said anything at all. But she did, and he did, and both of them were to decidedly regret the results of doing so; for one thing, it taught the son of Zeus that tempting the Fates simply to indulge in idle mischief is never a good idea - and for another, it nearly cost them both a price neither was prepared to pay.

That wasn’t the worst of it though. Oh no. Not by a long shot. The worst thing about the whole incident was the way it attracted the attention of far too many gods. Fortunately Ares wasn’t one of them, although he spent the rest of the year chuckling about the exploits of his mortal born brother after he heard the tale. Apollo thought it was hilarious - although Artemis wasn’t laughing and neither was Demeter. Heaphastus, it has to be said, kept his opinion to himself for once - although that might have been because he’d been the one to offer the good advice to begin with. Hermes, on the other hand, told absolutely _everybody_ he could about it. Several times in fact.

Hercules suspected that it would be a long time before any of his immortal relatives let him forget about it - which wasn’t really a problem, since he was _never_ going shake the memory, no matter what he did. It wasn’t just the humiliation, or the fact that he ended up begging for divine aid despite his life time vow to avoid asking his relatives for anything. No, the thing which had etched that day indelibly into his memory was the look on his best friend’s face - the one which had dawned there right at the moment when everything went horribly wrong.

He’d never seen that look before, and he never wanted to see it again.

A look of sheer, panic stricken _terror._

One that had very nearly been his _last …_

* * *

"So what _do_ you want for your birthday, Mother?"

Alcmene looked up at the question, smiling at the tentative way it had been phrased, at the hesitancy in her son’s voice. Hercules had sailed halfway round the world to retrieve the Golden Fleece, harnessed fire breathing, man eating horses, killed Ghidra, Dragons, and a Chimera or two - and he _still_ couldn’t face the thorny issue of her birthday without a tremble of doubt in his voice. She’d tried all sorts of things. Like telling him that she didn’t really care for fancy presents and that his love was more than enough. Or suggesting that they forget about birthdays altogether, since he was never home for his own, and her’s wasn’t something she really wanted fussing over.

None of them had worked. For Hercules, his mother’s birthday was an occasion that had to be completely and utterly _special_ \- and he’d be willing to go to the ends of the Earth and back again, if it meant getting her the one thing she really wanted.

What she _really_ wanted was her son - home, safe, well, out of harm’s reach and out of trouble - a gift that was becoming more and more precious and less and less certain every year. But she couldn’t tell him that, because saying so would keep him at home, when all his heart wanted to do was wander far and wide, helping those who needed it. She knew how important that was to him, as well as how important it was to the world, who needed a hero far more than a mother needed her son - however much she’d like to think otherwise. 

So she hid behind her smile and tried to think of something that wouldn’t cost the earth but would still be special enough to fulfill his need to make it something important and noteworthy. She knew that Hercules never had any money, and had long since given up trying to instill some sense of financial acumen into him; give him so much as a dinar and he’d inevitably end up handing it to the first needy person he ran across. Iolaus, of course, knew how to measure the value of every obol (which was why she always gave _him_ the smattering of journey money whenever the two of them rushed off on yet another adventure) but he had just as generous a heart - especially where his sword brother was concerned. If she asked for something expensive, Hercules would undoubtedly end up going to his partner for a loan - and then they’d _both_ be out of pocket.

Hercules _never_ paid any of his friends back, no matter how often he said he would. Not in coin, anyway. Since Iolaus - bless his hunter’s heart - had probably already got her present nicely organised (she’d made a point of saying how badly worn and moth eaten her old bedcover had become last time he’d called round - she was rather hoping for something warm, like rabbit, or fox fur) she didn’t think it would be fair to make him pay for a second gift.

"I don’t know, dear," she hedged, while desperately searching for a suitable answer. "I’ll be happy with anything you give me, really I will."

Jason had promised to shower her with diamonds and rubies, which was far too extravagant an idea, even if he was a King and had a royal treasury at his command; she’d asked him to gift her with rose bushes instead. Damascus ones; the kind which bloomed wild in the desert and filled the night air with their rich and heady perfume.

"Mother," Hercules protested softly, "that’s not a lot of help. I want to get something you _need_. At least something you’ll want and use, rather than just putting it away on a shelf somewhere."

Alcmene dipped her head back to her needlework, colouring a little behind her reactive smile. It was nice to have - trophies - of her son’s life and work, but there really wasn’t much you could do with a Titan’s hammer, or a Dragon’s horn. Other than put it on a shelf or hang it on a wall. Oh - and tell the neighbours about what it was and why you had it. Every time they came to call …

"How about a new set of cooking pans?" he suggested. "Or even a new stove? No," he denied almost immediately afterwards. "That would just be silly. I could give you those anytime. Birthday presents should be _special_. Like a delicate perfume, or incense oils. Scented woods from Africa. Or imported wine …"

"Hercules," she sighed, putting down her needle and giving him her full attention. Those ideas all sounded _expensive_ \- far more expensive than Iolaus’ meager purse would ever run to. And she wasn’t about to encourage her son to take up piracy just to get her a suitable birthday present. "This is just getting to be pure fantasy. I mean - if you wanted to give me something _that_ special … why, you could just as well bring me - I don’t know - a single rose from Aphrodite’s garden, a vine seedling from one of Dionysus’ vineyards, or - or a comb of honey from the bees that make the nectar they drink on Olympus. Actually," she continued thoughtfully, "that’s not such a silly idea. Honey, I mean. It keeps for ever and I could make some of those sweet cakes than you and Iolaus like so much … Yes," she concluded, favouring him with a motherly smile. "A jar or two of honey will be fine."

"Honey?" Hercules gave that some serious thought, pursing his lips and weighing up the possibilities. After a moment - too _long_ a moment, if Alcmene had only realised - he nodded with determination. "Very well," he decided, giving her a warm smile. "If you want honey, Mother, honey you shall have."

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding!" 

Iolaus halted in his tracks, staring at his company with decided astonishment. Hercules went on walking; just casually striding along the overgrown and long deserted road as though he’d merely been discussing the weather, and wasn’t it turning out to be a fine day - although it looked as if it might rain later, don’t you think? It had been just over a year since the two of them had left the Academy to venture into the wide world and the son of Zeus’ once gawky stride was turning into a confident, easy step; his shoulders had broadened out to balance his burgeoning height and the rest of his muscled frame was busy putting on well muscled weight to match. He’d spent years trying to live up to his divine heritage and earn himself a reputation worth hanging on to; even a casual observer would have to admit that he was finally beginning to look the part. 

"You are kidding? Right?" There was decided note of doubt in the question, and the questioner went on staring, watching his partner widen the space between them without even bothering to look back. " _Right?_ "

That year on the road had added a little muscle to the young hunter’s build as well, although it was hard to see where, exactly. He’d neither grown up, _or_ out - but what had once been lean and scrawny adolescence was rapidly turning into sleekly compact self-assurance. Time was adding a slightly rugged edge to his naturally impish charm, and it clearly suited him. Where Hercules’ flaxen youth was blossoming into handsome lines and heroic stature, his best friend was beginning to mature like a rare spirit or a fine wine; developing hidden depths and deceptive strength beneath a surface of mellowed gold.

"Okay. So he’s _not_ kidding." Iolaus heaved a heavy sigh, shook his head in complete disbelief - and then took off after his friend, who - by now - was halfway to the curve in the road and the bridge that lay beyond it. "Hey Herc - wait up!"

Hercules didn’t _wait_ exactly, but he did slow down a little, allowing his companion to catch up with him by the time he reached the bridge. It was one of those rope, plank and ‘wrong move and you’re a hundred feet further down’ affairs, stretched over a rock filled ravine and looking as if nobody had crossed it in years. Which - if this was the bridge it was supposed to be - they hadn’t.

"This is it," the son of Zeus announced with confidence. "Heaphestus said this would be the safest way if we wanted to sneak in without being seen."

Iolaus gave him a doubtful look, eyeing the rickety construction with decided distrust. "He say anything about sneaking _out_ again?"

"Not as _such_ , no … Look - if you want to sit this one out - "

"Did I say that?" the hunter bristled instantly. "I didn’t say that. You wanna do this thing, we do it. I just - I just wanna know what I’m getting into, that’s all."

"Oh. Ah …" Hercules hesitated for a second, then took the start of a deep breath, readying himself to explain. By the time he’d completed it, Iolaus was already in full flow, the words tumbling out of him like water released from an underground spring.

"See - you walk me all the way to the feet of Mount Olympus, with no real explanation, except for something about Alcmene’s birthday, and that you asked Heaphestus where to get this stuff you wanted, and _he_ sent you here, and then you tell me that _here_ is actually the backway into one of Demeter’s sacred gardens, and that the bridge leads to a vineyard that Dionysus planted, so we’re sneaking into sacred ground, and you _still_ haven’t said why we have to sneak, or what it is we’re here _for_ \- " He paused for a much needed breath and then carried blithely on before his friend could get so much as a word in edgeways. "Only, if I’m going to risk the wrath of the gods, or find myself in the middle of a bunch of Bacchae, I’d really like to know _before_ it happens, so that I can be prepared, you know? Especially as it’s the month leading up to the Harvest Festival, and the shrine is going to be packed with offerings - and is that what it’s about? Because if we’ve come to petition Demeter to bless your mother’s garden, then why are we sneaking in the back way, and shouldn’t we have brought something as a gift or something - "

"Iolaus." Hercules tried to interrupt, lifting his hands to halt the relentless stream of words. "Iolaus! _Iolaus_!"

The final emphasis broke through the litany. The hunter gave him a puzzled look, distracted enough to lose his train of thought. "What?" he queried innocently, and his friend sighed.

"We aren’t here to get Demeter’s blessing. Although that wouldn’t have been such a bad idea … No - Mother said she wanted some - honey for her birthday."

"Honey."

Hercules nodded, trying to look as if this was no big deal and failing miserably.

"Herc, you can pick up jars of honey in almost any market in Greece. And if they catch you they’ll make you pay for it too - " Iolaus’ joking expression froze. His eyes narrowed and he stared at his company with disconcerted suspicion. "This isn’t just _any_ honey, is it."

"Uhuh."

"And we’re not here to just - pick it up, are we."

"Mmuh."

The hunter’s frown deepened. He took a step forward, reaching up to feel his friend’s forehead with the back of his hand. Hercules stepped back from the contact with an embarrassed grimace.

"What’s _that_ about?" he asked, unsure if he should be amused or worried by the look in his partner’s eye.

"Just checking," Iolaus retorted, continuing to consider him with intense scrutiny. "You are still _Hercules_ , aren’t you?"

"Of _course_ I’m still Hercules." The response was indignant. "Who else would I be?" Memories of past events caught up with the demand as soon as he made it. His expression softened a little. "Oh, well, yeah, okay … But - I’m _not_ Ares in disguise. Or Discord. Or anyone else for that matter. This is _me_. Really. Why would you think it wasn’t?"

" _Because_ ," the hunter announced, "you are sounding far too much like _me_ for comfort. I’m the one that comes up with these convoluted schemes and _you’re_ the one that talks me out of them, right? Now, you’re not running a fever, and nobody’s in trouble here, so - hey! Is this one of those ‘I do this and dad takes notice of me’ things? You promised Chiron you’d give those up. Especially the ones that nearly get me killed."

Hercules rolled his eyes skywards, his expression clearly demonstrating what he thought of _that_ idea. "No," he said firmly. "This is _not_ one of those things. I’m not doing this to get Zeus’ attention. In fact, I don’t want _any_ god’s attention over this. I just want to get mother what she asked for."

"By sneaking into one of Demeter’s sacred gardens the back way … we’re stealing this stuff, aren’t we?"

"Well," the son of Zeus hedged, "not _stealing_ exactly …"

"Hell _o_ ," Iolaus interrupted pointedly, "ex-thief in the audience. Stealing thing? I know about the stealing thing. And I gave it up. Because _you_ thought it was a bad idea. Remember?"

"Yeah, I - I know." Hercules stared at the ground, discomfortedly poking at a tussock of grass with the toe of his boot. "But this is for mother. And taking things from the gods isn’t the same as - well, it isn’t. Nobody’s hurt by it." That sounded hollow, even to own his ears; he wasn’t going to convince anyone with _that_ argument - including himself. "Besides," he went on hastily, offering the words which had kept his doubts at bay all the way from Heaphestus’ forge, "it’s no big deal. Just a jar or two of honey."

"Right," the hunter snorted. "And I can introduce you to half a dozen guys who lack a right hand because they helped themselves to an apple when they thought no-one was looking. Stealing’s stealing, Herc. No matter what it is, or who it’s from."

His friend sighed, knowing he was right. "I kinda - promised," he admitted reluctantly. "I’ll understand if you - "

"No, no. I’m in," Iolaus grinned. "What?" he reacted at the look this earned him. "You think I’m going to leave an amateur to tackle a challenge like this? You’re going to need my help. Besides - we pull this off? It’s gonna be way cool."

Hercules chuckled, relieved and not a little amused by his partner’s assessment of the situation. He’d held off telling him where they were heading and why, precisely because he couldn’t be certain he’d get support for his plan. Truth was, he hadn’t entirely convinced himself of the wisdom of his scheme - but he _had_ promised, and besides, it wasn’t as if they were about to steal anything _important_.

"It’s not that much of a challenge," he remonstrated warmly, dismissing the misgivings that were lurking at the back of his mind and beginning a careful crossing of the rickety bridge. "All we’re going to take is some honey."

" _All_ , he says." Iolaus hung back, watching the creak and sway of the bridge as it protested his friend’s weight. "Herc - this is a place the gods hang out in, right?"

"Sometimes. I suppose."

"So - you’re going to tell me it isn’t guarded? Or didn’t Heph mention details like that?"

"Oh, it’s guarded." The next plank broke as soon as boot leather touched it; Hercules swayed back to regain his balance, and glanced down as the pieces spiraled away into the depths. "But there’s only one caretaker. His name’s Cydrus."

"And?" The hunter tested the tautness of the nearest support rope, shrugged and began to inch after his partner. The first gap he reached was almost too wide for him to step over, and he gritted his teeth and made it with a wary jump. Someway ahead, the son of Zeus had to grab for support as the shifting structure rippled under him.

"And - ah - he’s a giant with two heads."

"Uhuh. Anything else I should know about?"

"Well," Hercules hesitated. "He has a couple of dogs - that breath fire," he added with a small wince, making a hasty jump for the far side of the gorge. It felt a lot safer standing on solid ground. Iolaus paused to stare at him in disbelief, still in the middle of the swaying, unstable construction.

"Hades hounds? This guy has _hades_ hounds?"

There was a sudden and ominous creaking sound from the bridge; the hunter’s head whipped round in time to catch the supporting ropes behind him beginning to snap and unravel a strand at a time. Hercules cursed and grabbed hold of the nearest stone pillar, anchoring himself with one hand while stretching out and encouraging haste with the other. Iolaus broke into a run - one that became a desperate leap as the planks dropped out from under his feet. The bridge fell away, and the young hunter sailed wildly across the remaining gap, reaching out at full stretch. Hands made contact. Fingers closed - and dust cracked from the stone under Hercules’ other hand as he took the full weight of his best friend on one arm. A moment later and the two of them were standing side by side, the hunter lifted up and out of the abyss as if he were no more than a sack of feathers.

Way, way down, the broken bridge hit bottom with a resounding _crash_. Two pairs of eyes swiveled downwards - then back up to meet in mutual relief and acknowledgement of gratitude. Hercules clapped his partner warmly on the shoulder and briefly squeezed before releasing his determined grip on a leather clad wrist. Iolaus squeezed back as he did the same - then spent the next few moments massaging and rotating his shoulder and arm until he got the feeling back in his fingers.

"The hounds won’t be a problem if we’re careful," Hercules decided, leading the way into the overgrown vineyard. "They won’t even see us. No - I’m more worried about the bees. They’ll be far more of a danger than the dogs."

Iolaus snorted. " _Bees?_ Come on, Herc. What harm can a few itty bitty bees do?"

His partner paused, throwing his partner a calculating look. "You ever been stung?" he asked pointedly. The hunter giggled.

"Course I have," he retorted. "You were there - remember? We were getting honey for your mother that day, too … Look," he said, "I’m not worried about a couple of bee stings. They may hurt a little but - I’m a big boy now. I can handle that kind of thing. _Bee_ stings," he muttered, shaking his head and rolling his eyes as he headed deeper into the tangle of vines. Hercules heaved a small sigh and strode after him.

"Iolaus," he murmured softly, as soon as he’d caught up again. "These bees are special. They feed off the flowers up on the mountain. They make the nectar of the gods. And they’re sacred to Artemis."

" _All_ bees are sacred to Artemis," the hunter muttered back, glancing around warily to get a feel for their surroundings. They’d both dropped their voices to a near whisper; this was now enemy territory and they had to be on their guard. "But I take your point. Okay. We treat the bees _very_ carefully. Try not to hurt them." He threw a glance at his company, accompanying it with a wry grin. "If we’re caught, this was your idea, right?"

Hercules grinned back. "Right," he said, then added after a beat: "Let’s not get caught."

* * *

The far end of the vineyard had been completely abandoned, which wasn’t surprising since while Dionysus had planted it, Bacchus had subsequently laid claim to it. The resulting orgy of death and debauchery had, reputedly, so angered the younger god of the vine that he’d dispatched a screaming horde of meneads to deal with the unwelcome intruders. Bacchus had been driven out, but so had everybody else; the once thriving vineyard had apparently been left to fend for itself ever since. The vines were overgrown, tangled and heavy with burgeoning fruit. Sour grapes mostly; it was still a little too early in the season to harvest this kind of crop, which was probably just as well. Another month and this was likely to be a beacon for Bacchae, even if their dark god no longer visited his old hunting grounds.

The two young men sneaked through the riot of undergrowth with admirable ability. Iolaus led the way, scouting a path that followed the pattern of the original planting and skirted the tumbled stones of the old wine lodge that lurked in the middle of it all. He ducked under arching vines and scrambled through the rotted supporting lattices, moving as quietly as a fox - or a wary deer with hunters on its tail. Hercules followed behind; his step was a little heavier and he had to pause from time to time to widen a gap that his partner had slipped through with ease, but even so a casual observer would have been hard put to spot either of them.

And there were observers; colourful peacocks pecked among the vines and thistles, strutting down the middle of the now weed filled paths which separated plot from plot. Untended, the vines had intermingled with complete disregard for planning, but the place had once boasted careful design, with its white grapes segregated from the darker reds and the sweet, golden varieties planted close to its heart. There was no way of knowing if the creatures that rooted along the remains of the ancient gravel paths were merely birds or something more sinister, but since even a mortal peacocks can raise a desperate clamour of alarm, the trespassers avoided them as if they were the eyes of Hera herself.

Past the ruined lodge the planting showed signs of more recent care. Waist high weeds gave way to a scattering of ragged grass, and the mass of snarled vines was reduced to a more negotiable drape, cascading down from their support lattices to carpet the space between the once ordered rows. Beyond that lay open space, a hint of white marble buildings and the soft murmur of running water. Iolaus picked up his pace a little, racing ahead with an anticipatory grin on his face. Hercules hesitated for a moment or two, looking back at the overgrown building with suspicion, then he moved on, following in his friend’s wake and leaving the wilderness behind. The hunter paused at the edge of the final plot to assess what lay ahead, and that was where his partner caught up with him, the two of them lurking in the concealing greenery while they considered their next move. 

The garden was mostly a pastoral affair, laid out with winding paths, curved flower beds, elegant trees, and a narrow stream which tumbled over a small waterfall, pooled out into a small lake and finally vanished somewhere at the far end of the rolling landscape. There was what seemed to be a small orchard on one side, and a slope which led down to tended fields of grain on the other. In the middle of everything stood a formal construction; carved pillars marked the corners of a large paved area, with a raised marble building at one end and an ornate sunken pond at the other. The building was one of those classic shrines with open sides, its roof supported on slender stone columns and a series of shallow steps leading into it. There was a stone couch, and what looked like a statue taking up most of the interior.

It was hardly a gleaming temple though. It - and the columns that marked the corners of the plaza - were festooned with ivy and other climbing plants, their flowers and leaves adding a dappling of colour to the otherwise plain white of the architecture. The stone in front of it was painted with moss and the steps had little cascades of low growing flowers tumbling down on either side. The paved area had the same aged and rustic air about it; moss and lichen clung to cracked stones, while the marble tables which formed an angled U at its centre were clearly well weathered with age. They were surrounded by and piled high with offerings; sacks stuffed to the seams, barrels, baskets, bowls and indistinct bundles jostled to find space next to each other.

Iolaus dug Hercules in the ribs with his elbow and pointed at the far side of the square. The son of Zeus nodded, having caught sight of the same thing. A row of trestles had been set up along the furthest edge of the paving, each pair supporting the weight of a solid slab of weathered wood. Poking up from behind the pyramid of offerings, and clearly resting on the wood, were the arched peaks of three enormous beehives.

"Easy as pi-" Iolaus began to hiss, only to have his final word abruptly silenced as Hercules hastily clamped a hand over his mouth. "Mmm-mm?" the hunter inquired with a questioning look. His partner tilted his head and pointed at the pillared building with his free hand. Blue eyes rolled in that direction, and then went wide in comprehension. A blond head nodded understandingly; lying on the shallow steps, sprawled out in the afternoon sun, were two huge hounds, each the size of a small pony. They appeared to be asleep - as was their master, whose colossal form was occupying the couch beneath the marble roof.

An elaborate pantomime ensued, the two trespassers discussing options and agreeing on a plan without uttering a single word. It required Hercules to roll his eyes several times, and Iolaus to wave his arms expansively, but the conversation was perfectly clear, and by the end of it they’d settled on a course of action. They split up, the hunter skirting round in one direction, his partner in the other, both of them moving as carefully and silently as they could.

Hercules’ chosen route took him past one of the ivy covered corner pillars, in front of which stood a tall stone plinth supporting an ornate pottery jar, the kind that come with pictures of poets and dancing girls painted on them. The son of Zeus paused there, carefully reaching up to lift the jar from its perch, then sidled on, warily tiptoeing around the nearest of the sleeping hounds and suppressing a wince each time his carefully lowered boot touched the stone.

Iolaus made faster progress, scurrying around the far end of the groaning altars and making his way to the end of the furthest trestle. The hives had been placed at a height suitable for a giant to tend; when the hunter arrived at his goal, he found the edge of the thick wooden table was a good foot over his head. He stared up at the arrangement for a moment, then shrugged, put up his hands and hauled himself up onto the surface of the wood. A moments scrabble got him safely onto the upper level, where he stood up, took a wary look around - and immediately broke into a delighted grin.

They’d been expecting to have to steal the honey from the hives - which was why Hercules had snaffled the jar, so that they had something to put it in - but the Fates had decided otherwise. Stack on the middle trestle top in front of the middle hive were half a dozen large pottery jugs, each with a broken honey comb standing in it to drain. Bees drifted around both the hives and the jugs, the air vibrating with their soft buzz as they went about their business. They were slightly bigger than honey bees he’d seen before, and their wings and bodies both sparkled slightly, as if they were coated in light.

Confident in the ease of his task - and not a little relieved at finding there was no real need to disturb the bees at all - Iolaus strolled down the length of the weather beaten wood and hunkered down beside the roughly glazed jugs. He poked at the nearest honey comb with a cautious finger and then just as cautiously tasted the result. His eyes lit up, his grin widened into mischief and he happily helped himself to a second scoop of the rich golden syrup, licking - first his finger, and then his lips with relish.

" _Psst_ ," Hercules hissed from the ground below, glancing back with alarm in case even that soft noise had alerted the sleeping hounds. _When you’re quite finished_ , he mouthed, glaring up at his partner with anxious irritation. Iolaus grinned down at him, utterly unrepentant, and - unthinkingly - slapped away a curious bee which had drifted close enough to buzz in his ear. The bee took umbrage, and the hunter had to swallow a yelp of pain as a sharp jab lanced into his palm.

 _Ow_ , he complained in his friend’s direction, shaking the now dead bee off his wounded hand before bringing it to his mouth to suck out the embedded sting. It was Hercules’ turn to grin. _Serves you right_ , he noted silently, earning himself a martyred glare.

Somewhere off to his left, one of the huge dogs grunted and kicked out in its sleep, dreaming, no doubt, of chasing would be thieves and unwanted intruders. Hercules glanced in its direction, then back up at his partner, still sucking at his wounded hand. _Come on_ , he mouthed, carefully placing the now unneeded pot on the ground and reaching up with both hands to receive the gift of a honey jar. _One will do_.

Iolaus looked a little puzzled for a moment, then remembered what they were there to do; he grinned and nodded, putting out both hands to lift the nearest jar off the bench. It rose about three inches and then he quickly put it down again, wincing as it hit the weathered wood. Hercules heaved a silent sigh of impatience. His sense of uneasiness was creeping back and he wanted this to be over and done with as soon as possible. Before he changed his mind about the whole thing.

 _Hurry up_ , he requested, nervously glancing, once again, towards the sleeping animals. Neither of them had moved.

Up on the table top, Iolaus had more immediate things to worry about. The jar had been heavier than he’d been expecting, but that hadn’t been the reason for nearly dropping it. There’d been another bee lurking under the rim and the throbbing point of pain in his right palm had just been joined by a second, even more painful sting, jammed in between the middle and third finger on his left hand. _Oh, great,_ he muttered to himself, sucking out the second barb with an annoyed grimace. He’d forgotten how much bee stings _hurt_.

Hercules was waving at him impatiently, so he pushed his discomfort aside for a moment and reached for the jar a second time, taking less than a moment to check that it was free of black and gold passengers. It seemed even heavier than before, its weight pressing into his wounded hands so that the pain came back like skewers of fire. His fingers prickled and went numb. So - for some reason - did his lips. A wave of nausea shivered through him; the world seemed to shimmer in front of his eyes and he blinked, fighting for focus. _Whoa_ , he tried to gasp - and couldn’t; his throat constricted instead, turning the exclamation into strangled gulp. His lungs heaved, fighting for a supply of air that somehow just wasn’t there anymore. His skin felt like it was on fire. Everything started spinning. He couldn’t breath.

By the gods - he needed to _breath …_

The jar slipped through his fingers, unnoticed in his desperate struggle to draw breath. It plummeted back to the table top, rocked on its base for a moment, then tipped over, spilling liquid gold across the wood and over the edge. Hercules was waiting there, gazing upwards and both hands upraised in anticipation.

The honey hit him straight in the face.

 _Gods_ , he reacted, hastily stepping backwards - although not quickly enough to avoid the worst of the flood. The sweet, gooey cascade drenched his face and spattered his hair. It painted its way down the front of his shirt and began to ooze under the fabric, clinging to his skin with sticky persistence - and it clung to his fingers as he reached to wipe the worst of it from his eyes. _That_ , he began to mouth angrily, taking another step back so that he could see what his friend was up to, _wasn’t fu -_ He froze, anger and irritation forgotten as he registered the struggle which was going on over his head. Iolaus was down on his knees, supporting himself on one hand while the other clutched at his chest. He was wrestling for breath, dragging much needed oxygen into his lungs with long wheezing gasps, each one more desperate than the last.

"Iolaus?" Hercules kept his demand to a whisper, but even so it was filled with anxious horror. " _Iolaus_!"

The hunter reacted to the call, turning panic filled eyes towards his friend. His mouth was open, gulping at the air as he struggled to draw in each strangled breath. There were red angry marks erupting on his skin, his lips were turning blue - and there was a look of total terror on his puffed and swollen face.

"Herc - " he managed to croak, lifting himself up onto his knees. " _Help me …_ "

It was his last coherent gasp. He collapsed completely, flopping down like a freshly landed fish and hitting the honey streaked table top with a soft thud. Three of the remaining jars went flying, and Hercules took an involuntary step backwards as they plummeted to the stone beside him - where they shattered with a resounding crash.

Honey splattered everywhere.

And the hades hounds woke up.

* * *

There are some moments of crisis when time slows to an agonising halt - and some where everything just happens all at once, with no space between events for thought, just action. This was one such occasion; one second Hercules was standing there in stunned horror, and the next he was in motion, diving desperately to one side as two three hundred pound plus of solid muscle, teeth and savagery hurtled in his direction.

Snorting angry puffs of smoke and flame.

He dived rather than dodged, throwing himself into the tumble of offerings stacked around Demeter’s altar. Grain spilled out as he landed, the bulging seams of over stuffed sacks collapsing under the impact of his weight, and he scrambled away across the avalanche, seeking the suspect shelter of the stone. One of the hounds collided with a stack of baskets, sending them flying. The second skidded to a halt - and spat out a fireball which filled the whole of the space under the tables with searing flame.

 _Gods_ , Hercules cursed, hastily pressing back between a crate of oranges and a crock of olive oil. _I don’t have time for this …_

Heat washed over his honey drenched skin, searing the sugar and adding a layer of hot caramel to his unwanted decoration. The grains of wheat which had clung to the spattering of honey began to puff up like little cushions. The oranges shrivelled into blackened balls and the wood of the crate began to burn. He choked down a cough, desperately weighing options; if he stayed still and didn’t move, the dogs were likely to root around for awhile and then give up. The crash would have undoubtedly woken Cydrus, but without evidence to the contrary, he’d probably just assume that Iolaus had sneaked in on his own. In normal circumstances that would have given him a chance to lie low, wait until all the hoo-ha had died down and let him rescue his best friend from whatever fate the two headed gardener might have planned for him.

Only - his friend was in trouble _now_. Desperate trouble at that. He wasn’t the sort to just up and faint for no reason, and it had been clear, from that panic stricken look on his face that he’d had no idea of what might be happening to him. One moment he’d been fine, and the next he’d been struggling for breath, practically fighting for his life. Whatever the problem was, it had happened _fast_ \- and every second that passed might be the one that marked the point of no return.

Suffice it to say, staying still was _not_ one of the options Hercules was considering.

The dogs were digging at the tumbled sacks of grain, whining and barking as they tried to unearth the intruder they knew had taken refuge behind them. The heat from their breath was fierce and the wheat was bursting under its assault, filling the air with a whole series of staccato of snaps, crackles and pops. The son of Zeus hastily squirmed deeper into his suspect sanctuary, pushing back the pile of offerings stacked on the opposite side of the altar. He had to get out and he had to get out * _soon_. If he timed it right, he could force himself an exit on the other side, wriggle free and be up onto the stone before the dogs realised what was happening. From there he could make a leap for the trestles, fending the hounds off if he had to.

Of course, he’d still have the giant to deal with, but he’d face that problem when it actually became one. Right now, the only need that pounded though his soul was to reach his partner’s side, to answer that desperate plea for help. 

Before it turned out to be too late.

"Hold on, buddy," he muttered, bracing his shoulders and gritting his teeth for a determined shove at the barrier behind him. "I’m coming. I’ll be right with you …"

He heaved with all his might. Boxes and sacks and barrels surged outwards, scattering their contents to the wind. The precariously stacked offerings collapsed in an avalanche of wickerwork, sacking, and shattered wood, spilling a concoction of fruit, nuts and mixed grains across the paving stones. Hercules clambered out of the cascade, trailing smoke and puffed wheat; it took less than a second for him to grab the edge of the stone altar and then he was somersaulting onto its upper surface, kicking obstacles out of his way and ignoring the chaos he left behind him.

"Primrose! Buttercup!" The voice was deep; it also sounded irritated. "What in the name of the harvest are you two up to!"

"Raising Tarterus," a second voice growled, just as deep as the first. "It’s probably just a mouse."

_Some mouse_ , Hercules grimaced, already running forward, ready to make a leap for the trestle top. Now that he was at the right height, he could see the limp form sprawled across the weathered wood, a cloud of bees buzzing around the spill of honey that oozed out from under an equal spill of golden curls. Iolaus was lying ominously still.

The dogs had leapt away from the collapse of the offerings with startled yelps; now they bounded back, in time to make a snap at flying boots as the son of Zeus sailed over their heads. Flames seared his soles and scorched the leather of his pants, but nothing actually caught fire; the heat cooked the mix of honey and grains, glazing him to an even golden brown all over.

Fortunately, it also drove away most of the bees. He landed barely a foot from the central hive, the whole construction shuddering under the impact of his weight on the wood. The hounds yammered in frustration, reaching up to put massive paws against the edge of the tables and breathing out huge clouds of smoke, which wreathed him in choking fumes.

"Gods," he cursed, coughing and spluttering as he raced to reach his fallen comrade. "Iolaus? _Iolaus_!"

The hunter didn’t move.

_No …_

Hercules skidded to a halt beside his partner, reaching to roll him over, oblivious to everything but the blotched and angry weals which covered otherwise pallid skin. He didn’t hear the voices command the dogs to get down, or notice when they did so; his attention was fixed on the limp and unresponsive figure of his best friend.

" _Iolaus?_ " he whispered, trembling fingers groping to find a pulse in the distended throat. The young hunter’s eyes weren’t just closed, they were swollen shut; his half open lips were tinged with blue. "Iolaus!"

There was no answer. No pulse either.

" _No_ ," Hercules denied, pushing the honey stained vest aside and dipping his head to catch the heartbeat that had to be there.

And wasn’t.

" _No_!" he half screamed, a cry of angry protest and desperate denial. It had been only a minute or two. Iolaus couldn’t be dead. He just _couldn’t_.

His fist clenched without thinking; he slammed it down onto a tanned chest; once, twice, three times, pounding at his friend in a mixture of frantic disbelief and angry denial. " _Come_ on, Iolaus! Don’t do this too me! Don’t you _dare_ die, you hear me? Not over this! Not over - " his hand thumped down again, "a _stupid_ thing like this!" Flesh met flesh a fifth time; the limp form jerked in sudden response - and drew in strangled, wheezing gasp.

It was barely a breath - but it _was_ a sign of life, and Hercules heaved a gasp of his own, almost sick with relief. "Oh _gods_ ," he breathed, dropping back to find a faint heartbeat struggling inside the hunter’s chest. "That’s it, Iolaus. You can make it. Stick with me here. Fight for it."

"He’s trying, lad. But he can’t breath. You can see that, can’t you?"

"Aye," a second voice chimed in. "His throat’s all closed up. Happens that way sometimes."

Hercules looked up. There was a figure looming over him, waist high to the table and head and shoulders above his own height had he been standing up. One figure - but two grizzled faces, both of which were staring down at him with anxious concern.

"You know what’s happening to him?" he asked, his hand splayed protectively over his comrade’s chest. The heart beneath it was now beating far too fast for comfort, and the ribs were heaving spasmodically, occasionally managing to drag a strangled, wheezing gasp through distended lips.

"For sure," the first head nodded. "Seen it before. Bees got to him. Nasty way to die."

"He’s _not_ going to die," Hercules retorted, then glanced down at his friend with a sense of helpless horror. They were brave words - but they couldn’t deny the truth of the matter. Iolaus _was_ dying. Each drawn out, painful breath reinforced the fact.

"Maybe not," the second head countered matter of factly. "But most of them do. When it’s as bad as this."

Cydrus was actually quite handsome as giants go; his torso was well proportioned and rippled with muscle, his skin was tanned and weathered, and his hands, both of which were currently resting on the edge of the table, were strong and perfectly formed. His two heads sat solidly on a wide neck; the right was fair, with blue eyes and a scattering of sparse blond hair that was beginning to turn gray. The left was a completely different individual, with close cropped black hair and eyes that were a warm hazel brown. Both heads demonstrated matching signs of age, with grizzled features and a crinkling of fine wrinkles that suggested smiles sat more easily among them than frowns. Right _was_ frowning. Left was giving him a far more sympathetic look.

"I don’t understand," Hercules said anxiously. "It was one sting - maybe two, I don‘t know. But - he’s been stung before. It wasn’t like _this_."

Cydrus Right nodded, his lips pursing with comprehension. "That’s how it happens," he said. The giant’s hands reached out and - before Hercules could so much as protest - scooped the unconscious hunter up off the surface of the wood. "First time, it’s not a problem. But once the poison’s in ya blood, well - second time round can kill ya. And these are sacred bees. Their stings are pretty potent."

"We’ll make him comfortable," Left smiled, nodding towards the pillared building where he’d been sleeping earlier. "You coming?"

" _Sure_ ," Hercules replied, hastily scrabbling down from the table top and racing after the giant’s long legged strides. The dogs were back at their places on the steps and they stared at the son of Zeus as he scrambled past them in their master’s wake.

Inside the building was cool, its interior shaded from the sun. Cydrus strode past the massive couch which he’d vacated and crossed to the feet of the statue - which turned out to be a stylised image of Demeter, nursing a cornucopia. A set of normal, human sized steps led up to the carved feet and there was a second, opulently draped couch nestled in the folds of the carved robe.

"We get a few visitors," Cydrus Left observed as he laid the hunter on the tumble of silk and cushions. 

"Only - ah ," Right added a little pointedly, "usually they have an invitation."

"Ah - yeah," Hercules grimaced uncomfortably. "About that - "

"No time, lad," Left interjected. A broad hand caught the young demi-god’s shoulder and pulled him up to the side of the bed. "Ya friend needs ya. He can’t breath, see? Ya gonna have to do it for him."

"Me?"

"Uhuh." Left pushed him down so that he was sitting on Demeter’s big toe. "You pinch up his nose, you clamp your lips over his - and you breath out, so that _he_ breathes in. Simple."

"Oh, _that_ ain’t gonna work," Right protested with a knowing grimace. "The kid’s lungs are working fine. He just can’t get the air into ‘em. Takes a lotta strength to force a breath down a throat that swollen. Now maybe you or me …"

"I have plenty of strength," Hercules interjected, dipping out from under the giant’s hand and leaning anxiously over his unconscious partner. The hunter’s heart still raced inside his chest, but it held a faltering note - and the painful, wheezing gasps for air had faded with slow, strangled groans into practically nothing at all. His skin was clammy to the touch and the blue tint to his lips had become the only colour they possessed. "But I could hurt him …"

"He’s _dying_ ," Left snorted. "It’s your choice."

"Get him breathing and the shock could still kill him," Right added matter of factly. "We’d better get a blanket or two. Keep him warm - "

"- or bury him in it," Left concluded, the shoulder on the giant’s right side shrugging dismissively.

The suggestion sent a shudder through the son of Zeus. He reached up, using hands sticky with honey to push back the fall of his hair; pieces of puffed wheat showered down onto the cushions and the hair stayed where it was put, sticking up like sculptured spikes. "Oh _gods_ , Iolaus," he breathed, staring down at his friend with a decided sense of helplessness. "Just - don’t read this wrong, okay? I gotta do this. I _have_ too."

Cydrus had turned away, stomping across to his own couch to collect the promised blankets. Hercules took a determined breath and reached to tilt his friend’s head up and back, the way the giant had indicated. He really wasn’t sure that this was a good idea, but there didn’t seem to be anything else he _could_ do.

"Slow and steady, I guess," he muttered, gently closing his fingers to pinch flared nostrils shut. "Here goes." He hesitated for a moment, feeling decidedly uncomfortable about what he was about to do. If Iolaus woke up, what he was going to think ..? Horrified comprehension followed the thought. If he _didn’t_ do this, then there was a good chance Iolaus might not wake up at all. That settled the matter. He took another, deeper gulp of air, held it - and bent forward, clamping his mouth over those blue tinged lips, his free hand cupped gently beneath the hunter’s chin.

Honey.

Iolaus tasted of honey.

For a long time afterwards, Hercules would associate that taste with this moment. With the need to breath out in a slow and measured pace, forcing much needed air back into his best friend’s lungs. It didn’t matter that his fingers left bruised marks on a swollen throat; what mattered was the pace and the pressure, delivering just enough to matter, and not enough to harm. What mattered were the moments in between, catching in his own breath while gently pressing down on a raised chest to expel the one he’d just transferred. 

In. 

Out. 

In. 

Out.

His world narrowed down to the rhythm of his task, to the way warmth slowly returned to clammy lips, to the taste of honey and the beautiful sound of ragged, painful breath as it escaped from a distended throat. He barely noticed when Cydrus came back to tuck a layer of soft spun wool around the hunter’s shivering frame. 

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Two hearts, two heads - one set of lungs, sharing the sweetness of the air, and the precious gift of life itself. 

"That’s enough, lad." The giant’s voice was soft and sympathetic, the hand that brushed on his shoulder doing so with the gentleness of thistledown. "He’s through the worst of it. Give him space to breath on his own."

Hercules blinked, leaning back to stare down at the ashen face cradled in his hands. The hint of blue was gone, replaced by the palest tinge of pink. Iolaus’ eyes were still puffed shut, but the swelling was beginning to go down a little - and he _was_ breathing on his own, albeit in a slow, strangled way, each intake of air rattling in his throat with heart breaking effort.

"Is he - have I - do I need - " The son of Zeus didn’t know how to express the fear he felt. He’d been willing his friend to live with each determined breath - but his heart didn’t understand what had happened to him, and he had no way of knowing if the crisis had really passed.

"You’ve done everything you can." Left was smiling at him sympathetically. Right was frowning down at Iolaus with a look that sent a shiver down Hercules’ spine.

"Everything?"

"Everything," Left reiterated firmly. "You’ve given him a chance lad. He’s not going to suffocate on us, but - he’s in shock and his heart might not take it. He’s not out of the woods yet."

Hercules swallowed, his own throat closing for a second as he contemplated what that might mean. "Isn’t there anything you - ?"

Cydrus shook both his heads. "I'm sorry, there's nothing more I can do. It's up to the gods now."

_Up to the gods …_

Hercules looked down at his friend, his hand sliding down the line of a bruised and pale face to close, gently, on a wool covered shoulder. "Why would _they_ care?" he asked, as much of himself as of the giant beside him. "We came here to steal from them. It was only honey," he protested, turning towards Cydrus with anxious guilt. "No-one deserves to die for the sake of one lousy pot of _honey_. Do they?"

Burly shoulders shrugged.

"Don’t ask me, lad. I’m just the gardener."

"Yeah. The one that’s going to have to clean up the mess you made out there," Right added, half under his breath. "Dunno how I’m going to explain that. Seeing as how you should never have snuck past me in the first place."

The son of Zeus glanced back at his unconscious partner, his heart turning over at each ragged, desperate breath. This wasn’t right and it wasn’t _fair_ \- and this time it was all his fault. For thinking he could get one over on his family - just to please his mother on her birthday … 

His lips tightened with sudden determination, angry resolve blossoming in his eyes. He was going to put this right. No matter _what_ it cost him.

"You won’t have to explain," he announced, climbing to his feet and giving one last encouraging squeeze to his sword brother’s shoulder. "Because I’m going to."

"You what?" Right looked at Left, who looked back with mutual puzzlement. "Lad - what makes you think the gods will even hear you, let alone listen to you?"

"Because," Hercules declared, heading down the steps and towards the open air with a resolute stride. "I know of at least two of them who’ll be more than happy to watch me grovel. You know who I am?" he asked, turning on his heel and walking backwards for a few paces, watching Cydrus for his reaction. The giant shrugged.

"Should I?"

"I’m _Hercules_ ," the demi-god snapped. "Son of Zeus, so called hero, and thorn in the side of the gods. Well - some of them, anyway."

"Oh," Right registered, glancing at Left, whose eyes had gone very wide. "We thought you were some kind of honey monster."

_Yeah. Right …_

Hercules strode out into the sunlight, grimacing at the remark, which he knew had been made at his expense. He was, he suspected, about to get a lot more like that - but Iolaus’ life was on the line, and no amount of pride was worth losing _that_.

Especially as - on this occasion - he actually _deserved_ to be taken to task for what he’d done.


	2. Chapter 2

The plaza was a total mess. Toasted fruit and nuts lay scattered among the mixed grains which had spilled across the stones; the space under the altar was still smoking, and the air was thick with the scent of warm honey, crisped rice and roasted oats. Pieces of charred wood emerged from the banks of produce like flotsam left after a flood.

"Boy, is Aunty going to _ballistic_ when she sees this! Some party, huh, sis?"

The words were delivered in a familiar, laughing drawl - and Hercules’ heart sank. _Apollo!_ He’d been hoping that at least one of the gods would be within hearing distance, but his fair-haired, frenetic brother had _not_ been on his A-list. Not even on the _C_ , come to that. The young god of the sun had arrived on his floating travel board, and was hovering above the scene of the disaster, hunkered down to get a good look at the collective chaos.

"Hardly," a second voice answered, its owner stepping out of nowhere in a shimmer of silver light. "More panic than party, I believe. Am I right, little brother?"

The new arrival was a slender figure clad in tight fitting buckskin, with one bare shoulder, above which rose the curve of an ornate bow. Her silver hair was caught back by a simple leather band and she was wearing Amazon style bracers, inlaid with turquoise beads. Hercules blinked, a little taken aback at being addressed so directly.

"Artemis?" he questioned. The few times he’d glimpsed this particular sister, she’d appeared in a shimmer of light and he’d never really gotten a good look at her. Kora had always insisted that she was beautiful. Now he could see what she’d meant.

The goddess sighed. "One and the same," she acknowledged with a hint of exasperation.

"Whoa!" Apollo had leapt down from his board and was busy staring at his youngest brother with a decidedly amused gleam in his eye. "Just _love_ the look, dude. It’s so you - _not_." He burst into fits of laughter and Hercules winced. The honey monster crack had been bad enough.

"Go ahead and laugh," he said unhappily. "I probably deserve it."

" _Probably?_ " Apollo collapsed with a second fit of the giggles and his sister shot him an irritated look.

"You _deserve_ a lot more, Hercules," she said archly. "You. Of all people. Trying to steal the nectar of Olympus. And for what? Personal glory? Another of those - questionable songs they’re beginning to sing about you?"

"Bet he was trying to impress a _girl_ ," Apollo suggested, creeping round behind his brother and plucking a honey coated, puffed grain of wheat off his shirt. "Hey - you know? You may have got something here. All that extra, virgin goodness - wrapped in a toasted honey coating!" And he was off again, howling with laughter and hugging his sides in total delight. Hercules felt about three feet tall.

"It was - it was the _honey_ we were after," he admitted uneasily, staring at the ground and stirring the barley on it with his boot. "And it was for mother. For her birthday. We weren’t after the nectar," he added with a little more defiance, lifting his eyes to meet those of the goddess. She wasn’t laughing, but the look on her face made him feel decidedly uncomfortable. Apollo’s mirth at his humiliation was one thing, but his sister’s anger was something else entirely.

"Your mother." Her eyes softened a little. "You love your mother very much, don’t you?"

"Yes," he answered, confident in that at least.

"And is one day of _her_ happiness worth a young man’s life?"

_Iolaus …_

The look on his face would probably have been answer enough for anybody. Artemis’ expression went from anger to one of sympathetic pity. That made him feel even worse. "I didn’t know - " he began to say. "About the bees … He - he’s been stung before, I - I - Can you help him?" His plea was soft, and the words held decided pain. This wasn’t easy. He’d sworn never to ask any of his family for help, but - this was about _Iolaus_ , not about him. Surely Artemis wouldn’t balk at helping her fellow hunter? Especially one to whom she’d shown favour in the past.

"You have invaded Demeter’s sacred garden," she considered, turning to survey the disaster area with a thoughtful frown. "Without an invitation. You have been party to the destruction of both her offerings _and_ a considerable amount of my honey. You have disturbed my bees, created an enormous amount of work for Cydrus, and, in the process, have been responsible for putting an innocent in harm’s way."

"A-ah!" Apollo interrupted, grinning at Hercules as he took a step forward. "Point of order. You _cannot_ call the little fireball in there an innocent. Not by _anybody’s_ stretch of the imagination. Partner in crime, maybe …"

"An innocent," Artemis repeated firmly. "Since, in this particular case, this episode was entirely Hercules’ idea. Wasn’t it," she stated, fixing Hercules with a look that suggested he denied the fact on peril of instant death.

"Absolutely," he admitted. "All my fault. Everything. My idea, my plan - my punishment, right? I’ll - I’ll do anything. A quest. Servitude. _Anything_ ," he repeated with fervour. All the time they spent talking about this was time Iolaus might not have …

"Your punishment won’t be up to me," Artemis said with a sigh. "But - I suppose you really didn’t know the risk your friend was taking. There was no way you _could_ know. He didn’t." She sighed a second time, reaching down to pat the heads of the hades hounds, who had trotted over to greet her. "It does seem a rather - pointless way for a hero to sacrifice his life. Devoured by hydras maybe - "

"Disemboweled by hippogriffs?" Apollo suggested happily. "Ripped apart by Chimeras? Eaten by harpies? Toasted in honey …" he completed with a wicked grin, savouring the way his brother was wincing at each blood thirsty suggestion. Their mutual sister shot him a withering look.

"Please," Hercules pleaded softly. "If there’s _any_ way to save him …"

The goddess thought about it for a moment, then heaved a third, and slightly martyred sigh. "I’ll take a look," she conceded grudgingly. "He does have a certain - potential. Shame to waste it."

"Thank you." The gratitude was heartfelt and she snorted dismissively.

"Don’t thank me _just_ yet," she advised, striding up the steps and into the shaded building. "Pol? Whistle for Hermes, will you? Get him to tell Aunt Demeter what’s been going on here. I’m sure she can come up with a suitable penance for our little brother here."

"On it!" Apollo snapped his fingers for his board, which immediately dived close enough for him to leap onto. "Hoowhoo! Hercoolees! Are _you_ in for a frosty reception. Back in a flash!" He shot off like one of their father’s thunderbolts, leaving an echo of his laughter behind. Hercules shuddered. His ignominy would be all over Olympus before the sun set, and he didn’t know which was going to be worse - his father’s inevitable disappointment, or Hera’s gloats of delight.

Then there was the little matter of his punishment …

 _I’ll deserve it_ , he reminded himself, following his sister up the steps. _Iolaus was right. Stealing is wrong, and I should never have dragged him into this_.

"That was a brave thing you did, lad." Cydrus Right watched him walk up the inner steps and gave him an encouraging smile. Left was watching Artemis as she leaned over the unconscious hunter; it was an enviable skill, to be able to focus attention on two things at once. Two heads, one soul, Hercules realised, and cracked a rueful smile. He and the giant had more in common than he’d initially thought.

"I did what I had to," he said, standing back to give his sister a little room to work miracles. Just in case she needed to. "The right thing. That’s what I should have done in the first place."

"Absolutely," Artemis said without turning round. Her hand caressed a pale cheek, then reached to brush back a cascade of golden curls. "Of course, if this young hero here hadn’t argued with my bees, then you might have got away with it." She pushed the soft wool blanket aside, her fingers sliding down to rest on a tanned and honey stained chest. A soft silver light briefly sparkled under her touch and Iolaus shifted reactively, a soft moan escaping his lips. 

Hercules shivered at the sound.

"Oh, Iolaus," the goddess sighed. "Always in trouble and always for a good reason. Someday this heart of yours might get you into something you just can’t handle." She smiled at the thought, dipping to plant an amicable kiss on her fellow hunter’s forehead. "But no more bees. I promise." She straightened up and turned away, casually tugging the blanket back into place as she did so.

"That’s it?" her brother reacted, half in surprise and half in indignation. "That’s all you’re going to do?"

"All I need to do." Artemis glanced up at the way Cydrus was looming over her and he coloured, hastily dropping to his knee in a gesture of respect. "Don’t look so worried," she advised, briefly clapping her hand to Hercules’ shoulder with friendly encouragement as she walked past him down the steps. "He’s not about to _die_ , you know. Not now. His heart’s strong. He’ll live. Thanks to you," she added with a knowing smile.

"Thanks the Fates," Hercules breathed with decided relief. "I thought - "

"Know what you _thought_ ," his sister grinned. "But I seriously doubt you’ll get rid of him that easily. Now," she continued in a business like tone. "You’ll need these - " She clicked her fingers and several rolls of bandage plummeted from the roof, one or two of them hitting Hercules on the head and the rest making Cydrus lean back in alarm.

"Bandages?" the giant’s left head questioned, picking up the nearest missile between his right thumb and his forefinger. "You don’t bandage bee stings. Do you?"

"No - but you do bind up broken ribs. Three at least," the goddess noted with a thoughtful glance towards her half mortal brother. "Must have been when he restarted his heart."

_Gods …_

Hercules’ eye went wide in consternation. His mind darted back, recalling a clenched fist and the panicked anger with which he’d assaulted his friend.

" _These_ are for the bee stings," Artemis was saying, sweeping her hand out in an expansive gesture. Several small pots and jars materialised on the steps beside her. "Salves to ease the heat of the stings, bring down the swelling - oh, and something for the bruises too. He’ll be asleep for a while, but you can tend to him when he wakes up."

"I _hurt_ him," Hercules breathed in quiet horror, lifting his hands to stare at them in dismay. Artemis snorted, slapping his hands down with impatience.

"You saved his _life_ ," she corrected firmly, reinforcing the point by jabbing her forefinger into his chest. "Remember that. You did what had to be done. And you’ll do it all again, the next time he gets into trouble. And the time after that. And the time after _that_ too, no doubt. Hercules," she insisted, when the distressed look on his face failed to dissipate, "if it had been you lying there, breathing your last - would you have you expected him to hold back in case he inflicted a few _bruises_?"

Memory replayed flesh hitting tanned flesh - and with it, the reactive jerk and desperate gasp for life which it had elicited

"No," he admitted reluctantly. "I guess not …"

"Well then," she concluded matter of factly, "don’t move to guilt city over it. He’ll understand - and do as much for you if the need ever arises."

"Which it probably will," Cydrus Right observed wryly. The goddess shot him an amused look.

"Especially if the watchman’s sleeping on the job," she noted pithily. "Honestly, Cydrus - you’re getting as bad as your brother Io."

"Oh, come on," Left protested. "I only have four eyes to keep watch with - not forty."

"Besides," Right chimed in, "I’ve been working all day. This garden doesn’t take care of itself you know."

"Exactly," a new voice boomed, deep and resonant. The sound echoed around the entire building and out into the garden beyond. Hercules looked up in alarm; the marble statue was stirring, its carved features dramatically resolving into those of Demeter herself. Golden light flared and flashed across the painted ceiling as first Hermes and then Apollo came to join the party, the first hovering at the statue’s shoulder, the second looping the loop and screeching to a halt behind his sister and half brother.

If he’d had any thoughts of making a break for it, they vanished instantly. He was well and truly surrounded.

"So _you’re_ Hercules," Demeter boomed, staring down at him with a stern expression. He swallowed hard, steeling himself for the worst. Somewhere - out of the corner of his eye - he spotted Cydrus, surreptitiously reaching to scoop the sleeping Iolaus out from between the stone goddess’ feet, then come back for Artemis’ salves, rescuing both with admirable adroitness.

"Yes," the youngest son of Zeus acknowledged, taking a small step forward and setting his shoulders with determination. He’d made a mistake, he’d owned up to it - and now he had to face his punishment like a man. Like the warrior Chiron had taught him to be.

"Hoooee!" Hermes exclaimed, getting his first good look at the bedraggled, honey coated demi-god. "Man, are _you_ a sight. You’re all covered in wheaty goodness, dude."

"Told ya," Apollo drawled smugly. "My brother - the corn flake."

"That’s enough," Demeter snapped, reducing his mocking laughter to smothered sniggers - sniggers Hercules tried manfully to ignore. "As for you, young man - you may be my nephew, but that doesn’t give you the right to invade my garden, desecrate my altar or destroy my offerings, now does it?"

"No m’am," he answered dutifully. He had no quarrel with Demeter, who tended to treat her followers with measured consideration rather than unreasonable demand. When she noticed them at all, that was. "I’m sorry - about the mess. I didn’t mean to - "

"Intentions are not the issue here," she interrupted sternly. "The outcome _is_. I will not tolerate this kind of disrespect, you understand? You’re lucky I don’t just strike you dead on the spot."

"Ah - " Hermes pointed a wary finger skywards and she threw him a withering look.

"Dead men learn no lessons," she continued briskly. "And idle hands get their owner into mischief - so here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to pick up every single grain, nut, and piece of fruit from this courtyard - by hand. Then you’re going to clean the stones until they gleam. After which you will help Cydrus cut back the old vineyard and restore it to sensible use, harvest my olives, pick my oranges, reap my wheatfields, and plough the stubble back into the ground ready for the spring planting."

Hercules heaved an inner sigh of relief. He didn’t mind a little hard work - especially since he’d been expecting a lot worse. And Iolaus would be there to help him. Well - sit and watch encouragingly, he considered, more than a little guiltily. The hunter wasn’t going to be up to any serious work for a while. "Yes m’am," he agreed gratefully. "I’ll be glad to." Demeter harumphed softly.

"We’ll see," she said sceptically. "As for this other young man - " She turned to where Cydrus still cradled the sleeping hunter and Artemis stepped forward, deliberately putting herself between the living statue and the anxious giant. 

"I believe this young man has been punished enough," she said firmly. "But I will see to it that he helps with the honey harvest - once he has recovered from his injuries. He has paid his price," she insisted, meeting Demeter’s narrowing gaze with defiant confidence. The older goddess held the look for a tense moment, clearly annoyed at being overruled. Then she sighed and nodded, dismissing the matter with a wave of her hand.

"Whatever," she agreed. "He wasn’t the one demolishing my altar. Your honey, your bees - your problem. _You’re_ on probation," she added, pointing at Hercules - and left, abandoning the statue so that it remained in imperious accusation, one hand extended.

"Hey - light sentence, dude!" Hermes grinned, then laughed. "Newsflash! Hercules gets hard labour and time off for good behaviour. Like - ah - film at eleven. Catch ya, later!" And he too was gone - a streak of laughing, whooping light, heading back up the mountain and vanishing into the clouds which cloaked its peak.

Apollo walked round to stare up at the abandoned statue, his board tucked under his arm. "That was - like - disappointing," he said. "Where were the fireworks? The screams of protest? The months in Tarterus, emptying bottomless wells?" He turned, to find Hercules eyeing him with animosity - and burst out laughing again. "Oh man - you are one seriously toasted hero and no mistake. Have fun with your chores, farmboy. I’m outta here. Cheerio!" He dropped the board, leapt onto it with athletic ease and swooshed away, leaving a rumbling _boom_ echoing through the air.

"Our brother," Artemis sighed, "can be a real jerk sometimes. But you weren’t far behind him today, Hercules. I expect better of you."

"I usually expect better of me, too," Hercules said, echoing her sigh. "Thank you - for what you did."

"Me?" She laughed. "I didn’t do anything. And if I catch you - or your little hunter friend - trying to steal my honey again … Well, you don’t want to know what I’ll do. If I _catch_ you," she repeated with a grin, winked, and vanished.

"Well," Cydrus Left observed, "I haven’t had that many visitors since the meneads left." He paused and thought about it. "I think I preferred the meneads."

"You would," Right snorted. The giant stepped forward and carefully deposited his sleeping burden back onto the couch. Iolaus hadn’t so much as _stirred_ throughout the entire proceedings. "But - hey - we got help with the harvest. Hope you’re a hard worker, young man."

* * *

It was midday before Iolaus finally came round. Hercules had been able to settle him comfortably, wash most of the grime off him, gently bind up his broken ribs, liberally salve him with sweet ointments and still find time for a bath of his own. He was back at his sword brother’s side long before he stirred, taking a break from the start of his allocated labours to share Cydrus’ lunch of bread and cheese. It was probably the smell of food which woke the hunter up.

"Hey, buddy," Hercules registered, alerted by the soft groan which proceeded a very careful opening of tender eyelids. "How you doing?"

Iolaus blinked at him. Clearly regretted the action - and managed a tentative smile. One backed by a clear desire to wince as bruised muscles protested even that easy motion. "Wha - hit me?" he asked, his voice little more than a strangled croak.

"I did," his friend admitted apologetically. "Sorry about that. I - uh - your heart stopped. I got it started again."

 _What?_ Iolaus mouthed in total bemusement, then snapped his eyes wide in consternation as Cydrus loomed over the couch to check on his progress.

"It’s okay, okay?" Hercules made a hasty grab to stop his friend from scrabbling away in alarm. He was in no fit state to attempt anything athletic. "This is Cydrus. He’s - they’re - a friend. He helped - when you keeled over back there."

"Hi," Right smiled.

"How ya doing?" Left asked almost simultaneously. Iolaus sank back to the straw stuffed mattress, assessing the situation with wide eyes and a look of wary bewilderment. After a moment he offered the giant a cautious smile - of those ‘I’m doing this, but _gods_ \- I keep forgetting this hurts’ looks that made his partner wince. He was responsible for most of that.

"’Kay," the hunter croaked, flicking his eyes towards his partner, their depths filled with all kinds of questions. Questions Hercules knew he was going to have to answer - eventually.

"I wouldn’t try to talk," Left suggested affably. "You sound raw all the way down. I’ll get you some wine. That ought to help."

"Good plan," Hercules said, thanking him with a smile. Right smiled in return and the giant stomped off on his errand, leaving the two of them alone. Iolaus immediately reached up and grabbed at his friend’s vest - or _tried_ to at least. Hercules intercepted the grab with gentle strength and carefully but firmly placed the hand responsible back on its owner’s chest. The young warrior’s right palm was still swollen and inflamed - as were the fingers on his other hand, which Iolaus proceeded to discover when he groped to clutch at his companion’s wrist.

 _Ow_ , he complained, lifting his hand to stare at it with a peeved and decidedly pained look.

"Just lie _still_ ," Hercules ordered impatiently, torn between sympathy for the look and amusement at the self inflicted distress. "We’re quite safe, we’re not in any danger - and you need to rest. I’ll tell you everything, I promise."

Iolaus stared at him suspiciously. "Got _caught_ ," he assessed, his voice little more than a soft rasp, then added: "My fault …"

" _No_." The response was instant and adamant. " _Not_ your fault, Iolaus. Mine, if anyone’s. We should never have been here in the first place. _Gods_ ," Hercules breathed, looking down at those familiar blue eyes. "You nearly _died_. I could have lost you - and for what? A pot of honey? That’s just _stupid_."

 _Died?_ The look that flitted across swollen features was utterly disconcerted. "How …?"

"The bees - remember? You reacted badly when you got stung. And Cydrus is right, you shouldn’t try and talk. Your throat closed right up. I had to force air into you just to keep you breathing."

 _Oh_. Bruised lips formed a perfect circle; their owner sank back into the pillows, looking decidedly dazed.

"You’re going to be okay," Hercules assured him. "Really. You just need to rest. Take it easy for a while. The swelling and stuff will go down in a day or two and - your ribs will heal. Eventually," he added with a small wince. He still felt guilty about that.

"A little wine can go long way," Cydrus Right boomed happily, reappearing from the garden and striding over to join them both.

"Although this one’s only traveled sixty paces or so," Left laughed. He was carrying a huge amphora - well, huge on a human scale at least. It was probably just a small jug to him. "Stirred some of the good spring water and a little of the best honey into it. Should do you a world of good - and if it don’t? Hey - we’ll all be too drunk to care!"

Hercules chuckled, beginning to get used to the friendly giant’s somewhat laid back sense of humour. "Thanks," he said, unhooking the dipper from the top of the jar and sinking it into the deep red liquid it contained. It smelt good - and it tasted good too; he sipped a little to test its potency before risking it down Iolaus’ damaged throat. "Good stuff."

"Wine of the gods," Left and Right both grinned. "Dionysus does good grape. Speaking of which - if you get the altar cleaned up by tonight, we can start on the vines tomorrow. What d’ya say?"

"Sounds good to me." Hercules used the dipper to fill one of the goblets that Cydrus had given him earlier, then grinned and filled a second. He brought both back to the bedside and put one down on the marble steps. Then he proceeded to feed the contents of the second to his partner, a sip at a time. Iolaus grimaced over a number of things; the fact that he couldn’t take the goblet for himself, the equally galling fact that he needed his friend’s support under his shoulders so that he could drink, the simple fact that swallowing _hurt_ \- but the taste of the sweet wine and the relief it brought to his raw throat was clearly worth all the effort it took. "I’ll get back to work in a minute or two."

"Take your time," the giant smiled, watching the interaction between the two young men with amusement. It was obvious that Iolaus didn’t like being fussed over by his friend; equally obvious that he both needed and welcomed the attention - and the gentle concern which the son of Zeus was demonstrating belied the off-hand look and bluff body language he was trying to employ. "I’ll be out in the garden. Call me if you need anything."

"Thanks," Hercules acknowledged absently. Right grinned at Left and the giant strode away, snatching up the huge rake he’d left leaning against his own bed and heading out into the autumn sunshine. The minute he left, Iolaus shot his partner a look that said _you’d better explain all this or else._ Hercules sighed, put down the now empty goblet, picked up his own, took a deep swallow of the rich red wine - and launched into his tale.

* * *

"I can’t believe I slept right though all of _that_ ," Iolaus said for the umpteenth time, gingerly maneuvering a comb of honey out of the hive and into the empty jug that was waiting for it. "I mean - Artemis, Apollo, Demeter _and_ Hermes all show up and I _miss_ it! Is that unbelievable or what?"

"You didn’t miss much," Cydrus Left said with amusement, carefully placing the bulk of the hive back on its base and then picking it up again, one layer lower. "Although a Hercules coated in puffed wheat and honey is definitely not something you see everyday."

The hunter giggled, sliding gloved hands under the next exposed comb and repeating his earlier maneuver. "Now _that_ I would liked to have seen," he said, grinning under his protective layers of net. Bees buzzed lazily around them both, subdued by smoke from Buttercup and Promise. The two enormous hades hounds both had their front paws on the bench and were busy sniffling at the honey pots. Iolaus had to push Primrose away with his boot. "He got off lightly, didn’t he?"

The question was a serious one. Right heaved a small sigh. "Yes," he said. "He did. I’ve got one or two garden ornaments that used to be mortal men. Caught them stealing nectar one time."

"Ouch." The temporary beekeeper winced at the thought. "Well, we weren’t after _that_." He broke of the relevant part of the honey comb as he said it, placing the glistening cells of divine elixir into a separate pot. "To be honest - I didn’t even know this stuff was here. Well," he corrected sheepishly, "Herc said something about the nectar of the gods, but I didn’t really put the two things together."

"Just as well," Left considered. "It’s powerful stuff. Some of it leaks into the honey, you know? Adds to its virtues. They say it has healing properties … Say - did you _taste_ any of it before you got stung?"

Iolaus hesitated. "Ah - yeah. Just a fingerful. Why?"

Right looked at Left. They both nodded thoughtfully. "Because it probably saved your life," the giant said softly. "That - and your friend’s quick thinking, of course. You’re a lucky young man, you know that?"

"Because the Fates favour me?" Iolaus quipped, starting work on the next layer of the hive. Left laughed. Right snorted.

"The Fates just weave the patterns the way they fall," he said dryly. "I doubt they ever favour anybody. But _your_ pattern? I’d wager it’s a complicated one. All tangled up with a son of Zeus? That’s where your luck lies. With him."

"That’s not luck," the hunter said with quiet certainty. Both heads looked at him questioningly.

"It’s not?"

"No." Iolaus paused to straighten up for a moment, easing his still healing ribs and looking out across the garden as he did so. Hercules was down in the wheat field with the long scythe, his body stripped to the waist and gleaming in the warm sunshine. He looked up, as if sensing he was being watched, and waved, catching sight of the giant and his friend standing by the hives. Iolaus waved back. "It’s destiny …"

* * *

A month later Alcmene was busy working in _her_ garden when two travel weary and trail dusted young men arrived at her gate. She dropped everything to rush over and hug her son with decided relief. "Hercules, thank the Fates you’re safe," she exclaimed. "And _you_ , Iolaus - " She let go of one to hug the other, with equal enthusiasm. "It’s good to see you too."

"Sorry we’re so late," Hercules apologised uncomfortably. They’d missed her birthday by a good two weeks, and he’d been getting more and more anxious about the fact the closer he got to home. "There was - I had to - We - "

" _Hercules_ ," his mother interrupted firmly. "I know all about it. Zeus dropped by and - well, he didn’t know whether to laugh, or be angry about it. Neither do I. What were you _thinking?_ You know better than that. So do you," she added, shooting Iolaus a look that made him squirm on the spot. "Now - if you’d trespassed in Demeter’s garden because _lives_ were at stake, or there was a curse that needed lifting, or - anything like _that_ … Well, that would have been understandable. Still incredibly foolish, but understandable. I’m surprised she didn’t ask for a _year_ of service."

"Felt like one," Iolaus muttered, earning himself a wry look from his friend. The son of Zeus had spent every minute of his servitude working every bit as hard as they’d ever done at the Academy. Harder perhaps. The hunter had had an easier time of it - although he’d pitched in and pulled his weight, once he’d been fit enough to do so.

"A month was punishment enough," Hercules said sheepishly. "I made a mistake. I paid for it."

"We got caught," Iolaus translated with a grin. Alcmene threw him an affectionate frown.

"I should think so, too," she said. "Crime never pays. Does it, Iolaus?"

"Oh - it _pays_ ," the hunter responded shamelessly. "Just - it’s wrong. Right?"

"Right," Hercules and his mother chorused in tandem. He giggled at their synchronicity.

"We missed your birthday, mother," Hercules apologised, deciding that a change of subject was probably in order. "I’m sorry. I really am."

"Oh - that’s not important," Alcmene said, catching his arm and leading him into the garden. "You home - safe and well. The both of you. _That’s_ what matters."

"But - " he wasn’t going to let her dismiss it that easily. "I didn’t even get you a _present_. I - "

" _Hercules_ ," his mother interrupted, just as firmly as the first time. "What are you talking about? Your present arrived on the day. Just after I got the roses from Jason. A perfect match in fact. I’ve planted them over there. The roses, that is." She gestured towards one corner of her flower filled plot, indicating the line of Damascus rose bushes that now occupied what had been an empty bed. " _Your_ gift is over there. Such a clever thought. Now I shall have honey whenever I want."

Two heads turned as one. Hercules and Iolaus stared at the far end of the garden where Alcmene was pointing. There - resting on a normal sized trestle and gleaming slightly in the late sun - was the unmistakable shape of a beehive.

"The note said the hive was _your_ gift, Hercules, and that the bees were from Iolaus. That’s right, isn’t it? A gift to go on giving - thank you both so _very_ much."

Blue eyes sought blue, sharing a look of mutual bewilderment - and wary suspicion.

 _Zeus?_ Iolaus mouthed doubtfully. Hercules shook his head, suspicion giving way to quiet realisation.

 _Artemis_ , he mouthed back. A small grin began to quirk the corner of his mouth. Maybe something good had come of his mistake, after all.

 _Oh_ , Iolaus reacted, nodding his agreement. _Makes sense …_

"Why don’t you both come in," Alcmene asked. "I have honey cake - and I want to hear all about Demeter’s garden. Is it as beautiful as they say? Does the gardener really have two heads?"

"He certainly does," Hercules laughed, draping his arm around his mother’s shoulders and walking her towards the house. "I’m glad you like your present, mother. But you know what?"

"What?" she smiled.

" _Next_ year," he announced, sharing the thought and the promise with his partner, "I think we’ll stick with something simple. Like a new dress, maybe. Or perfume. Perfume sounds good."

Iolaus halted in his tracks, his eyes widening with sudden suspicion. "Oh _no_ ," he said, holding up his hands to register his rejection of _that_ idea. "No, no, no, _no._ I am _not_ about to raid Aphrodite’s boudoir. Not for anything. Well," he grimaced. "Maybe _one_ thing - but not _that._ " He held the thought for a moment, then added - perfectly straight faced, but with a decided twinkle in his eye: "I do _not_ want to find out what I’m allergic to in _there!_ "

And Hercules’ peal of laughter could be heard all the way back to Mount Olympus …

* * *

_Hercules was (possibly) responsible for the creation of a great many breakfast cereals during the course of this story. No stunt bees were harmed, due to the magic of CGI and the generosity of Artemis. Despite his traumatic experience Iolaus has not given up eating honey. Or using it for other things, either …_


End file.
